


everything counts a little more than we think

by harbour lights (epeolotry)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7765069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolotry/pseuds/harbour%20lights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A simple thank you would suffice.” </p><p>Sonali shoots him a testy look from behind her horn-rimmed spectacles, but the usual effectiveness of her murderous glares is sort of lost in between the fog on her glasses, the general dampness of her person, and the fact that she is underneath his umbrella and therefore subject to his courtesy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything counts a little more than we think

**Author's Note:**

> (takes place @ the beginning of easter holidays.)  
> a slice of life excerpt from an england/india oxford au that will never be written lmao
> 
> the unpolished version of this was sitting in my notes app for like upwards of 2 yrs, so i finally decided to do something about it
> 
> p.s. sonali = india.
> 
> p.p.s. the title is from the National's _Ada_.

She stands there, clutching a soaking wet knapsack and a decimated umbrella is at her side, swaying forlornly in her slackening grip. 

 

He’s almost a street away and he _still_ knows it’s her. He can see the tension wound up in her small frame, hair in its regular style, a perilously loose braid always on the cusp of coming undone, now plastered to her face thanks to the downpour. It all practically screams of that one tiny, uptight, anthropology major with a superiority complex.

Arthur comes up behind her wordlessly, shifting his own umbrella on an angle to accommodate two. She stiffens, a state upheld even after she realizes, with an imperceptible jolt, who her benefactor is. 

 

He, in the meantime, observes all this with a considerable modicum of amusement as he chews thoughtfully on a ticket stub that’s somehow found his way into his mouth. He’s never been very choosy about what’s ended up there anyway. His meals at uni consist of the garden variety microwaveable curry, any and all takeaway, and a fuckton of Pot Noodles. To be honest, _this?_ is not too different from his usual.

 

Still, it’s been in his mouth for a few hours, having long since lost its taste. He surreptitiously tries to spit it from his mouth without her noticing.

 

The moments pass. 

 

The violent patter of the rain is loud, but not quite deafening enough to fill the awkward silence between them. 

 

He decides to try his luck.

 

“A simple thank you would suffice.” 

 

Sonali shoots him a testy look from behind her horn-rimmed spectacles, but the usual effectiveness of her murderous glares is sort of lost in between the fog on her glasses, the general dampness of her person, and the fact that she is underneath his umbrella and therefore subject to his courtesy. 

 

She stews for a moment or two before her mouth tightens into a grim line and a harried, “ _Thanks._ ” furtively escapes her lips. He relaxes then, grinning down at her, vaguely entertained by how the situation has played out. He can't help it. After months and months of passive-aggressive shit talking and occasional curse-laden whisper arguments in the middle of lecture, with the clear mutual viciousness in between, it’s hard not to see the humor in this situation. 

 

Holding an umbrella over a soaking wet girl who seemed to have made it her mission to make his life a living hell. And he, of _course_ , had done his best to return the favor. 

 

Yet here they stood. 

 

 _Her veritable knight in shining armor,_ he thinks smugly, entertaining delusions of grandeur _._

 _My resident pain in the arse_ , she thinks sullenly, beating down feelings of mild guilt.

 

Somehow, this show of decency is even _more_ irritating than his usual twattish behavior. It means he's more mature. A real _adult_. So, childishly, she gnashes her teeth at the thought.

 

Then feels abruptly ashamed of herself. 

 

The wait and the rain endure and so does the silence; until she sighs. 

She shoots him a sideways glance and he raises a brow curiously. 

 

"Thank you. Really." 

 

A beat. Then he smiles.

This smile he offers is much less smug; she can tell it's a genuine one, even with her fogged up glasses. The way his eyes crinkle is unpracticed and sincere. 

 

She stares at him for too long a moment and his expression softens even further in confusion, and the odd way she reacts to it, the way her heart skips then settles. _That_ alarms her.

 

Quickly, she clears her throat and tries _her_ hand at decency.

(A foreign concept when it comes to him, but she'll make an adamant effort.)

 

"So, er. Thomasina told me she heard you're going to the Maldives for the hols?"

She grins, then. "Trying to find a far off place to hide for when India beats England in the world series, are you?" 

 

The surprised bark of laughter that elicits from him is a sound she decides she likes. 


End file.
